Bart Greenberg spent four of his most satisfying professional years running special events at the Lincoln Triangle Barnes & Noble. Preceding that he had spent several years at Tower Records where he first learned how to be in charge of signings and performances. Throughout this time, he met a very wide range of celebrities (writers, actors, singers, broadcasters, etc.). In the coming months he will share memories of some of the amazing—and notorious—people he encountered.
By Bart Greenberg***I have a confession. I hate summer. Always have. While other children were out frolicking in the sun, I was curled up in my room with just enough light to read a book. Unless I could be in water: a pool, a lake, the ocean on rare occasions–a true Pisces always eager to surround myself with water. Left in the sun for too long, I simply wilted. Which leads me to memories of events that wilted away, or nearly did. I don’t just mean unmemorable evenings; there were many of those. But events that truly threatened to vanish.
One of three: was an event built around a new Broadway play – Reasons to Be Pretty – by a very hot, of-the-moment author, Neil LaBute, notorious for being the most misogynistic playwright this side of David Mamet. Now, programs built around straight plays rarely pull the same kind of audiences that musicals did for some reason, but we still did them on occasion. This was one of those occasions. The publicist had done us some favors so we agreed to produce it, even though the only product to be linked was the acting edition of the script which was a paperback version that was available for a low amount. But we soldiered on.
We even agreed to an unheard of Saturday morning time slot. The idea was that the director, the playwright and the two leading actors (Stephen Pasquale, not 
yet the star he would become and Marin Ireland) would come in for an hour event before running down to the theater for their matinee. Everything was set—evidently in quicksand. The first to drop out was the director, Terry Kinney. Turned out that he was actually out of town directing a movie and couldn’t fly in for the event. Unfortunately, the shoot wasn’t going well, so LaButte flew off to do some rewrites to support his buddy. The two actors understandably decided it was just too much for them to do the presentation and two performances in one day. So we were getting the understudies. By that point, my colleague Anthony and I just didn’t care, but we still planned to hold the event. Then, on that morning the very embarrassed publicist came to inform us that unfortunately Pasquale’s wife had been in a nasty automobile accident and he was understandably skipping that day’s shows to be with her in the hospital. His leading lady 
contractually had the right to refuse to go on without him, so the two understudies were currently rehearsing for the matinee.
Anthony and I went to the event space at the scheduled time to explain to anyone who showed up why the program had been canceled—and absolutely no one showed up. Not a single person. However, the publicist was good to her word and we got comp tickets for the show. has something to do with adultery in a small Southern town and bowling. Lots of talk about bowling. It was dreary and boring and resembled a bad episode of “Mama’s Family.” And closed quickly.
Two of three: an event that didn’t happen, but for very different reasons and with a very different outcome. The wonderful Barbara Cook was a favorite of ours. I had done perhaps 10 events with her, between Tower Records and B&N. She was a consummate professional, very gracious and always interested in her fans – who tended to be among the nicest crowds I dealt with. When I was at Tower,
she would occasionally call the department extension to check if we had a certain recording available. If the answer was yes, she would politely ask if we could hold it for her and then give her name as if that still-Georgia-accented soprano wasn’t instantly recognizable. Bobby Short used to do the same thing, and his voice was even more unmistakable. Two classy people.
So, Barbara was due in to promote her latest CD with a mini-concert and a signing period. On the morning of the event, she called my boss in the main office, Steven Sorrentino. Though they knew each other very well, he didn’t recognize her voice at first. She had a cold. The champion of colds. Her speaking voice was three octaves lower than usual and with a definite rasp. Being the professional she was, she couldn’t sing but she was willing to come in to the store to explain what was going on. Steven convinced her that was definitely not necessary – he confessed to me later he was terrified of headlines blaming the company for the divine Ms. Cook having lost her voice.
Once more Anthony 
and I were dispatched to the event space an hour or so before the scheduled start of the event to alert our attendees to the circumstances. We knew the room was going to be packed, as it always was for Barbara, and we girded ourselves for a lot of complaints and protests (we had customers who complained because they were there on the wrong date or they came to the wrong store or … but that’s another story). But what happened was a big surprise. Not a single person complained – even the couple who had driven up from Virginia to be there; all we heard were concerns about her health and requests to be informed when the event would be rescheduled. Such was the love of Barbara’s fans.
Three of three: this event did actually happen, though it almost didn’t and was ultimately salvaged by one smart young man. Under the guidance of Steven Sorrentino, our space had become the standard place for release parties for major Broadway cast recordings. Most evenings involved a large part of the cast as well as composers, lyricists and book writers on occasion. So it was hardly surprising that we booked The Addams Family, a notoriously troubled production. There was no secret that the two leads were carrying on a very public feud, so we were 
informed we could have either Nathan Lane or Bebe Neuwirth, but not both. Happily, the choice was made to include the later (I had survived a signing at Tower Records for the cast recording of The Producers with a quiet but polite Matthew Broderick, the exhaustingly ego-driven Mel Brooks and Lane doing an imitation of a person facing major dental surgery without anesthesia.) Unfortunately, the leading lady developed health issues and was advised by her doctors that she could either do the event or the show that evening, but not both. Obviously, and understandably, she chose the ticket buyers. So we had a CD release event without either of the stars. But more problems were to come.
The show’s supporting cast were all game to take part, even the wonderful Jackie Hoffman who was stopped not once but twice by our security team who were convinced she was just a customer trying to force her way into the room. She was not amused. Now the big stumbling block was a tale of corruption – the corruption of a computer disc that is. For most of the CD release parties, the musical numbers (usually three) were sung live to pre-recorded tracks. For whatever reason, the tracks for this evening arrived late and it wasn’t until the soundcheck that it was discovered
that one simply would not play. This was Krysta Rodriquez’s (Wednesday) big solo, one of the highlights of the score. What to do? And that was when Adam Riegler came to the rescue.
The youthful teen Riegler played the role of Pugsley. The issue clearly frustrated him since as part of the number he got to issue several blood curdling screams – clearly his favorite part of his role. I had been chatting with his mom, the absolute antithesis of Mama Rose. She sat quietly at the back of the room, knitting and staying out of the way with a lovely smile. She was rather amused that her son was featured on Broadway as no one else in the family had any more connection to the theater than 8th row center stage. Her husband and she were happy to support his ambitions, but the moment he grew unhappy he was heading back to high school. And it seemed that Reigler had talents beyond the stage, as he collected the damaged disc and his laptop and disappeared into our greenroom. Fifteen minutes later, he reemerged, with a totally usable track so Krista got to deliver her showstopper and he got to offer up his lusty bellows of delighted pain.
